- Erotic Poetry
- Cult of Fawn
Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click here
It was the best day of my life.
Sitting in a college class-room with an Indian guru teaching, I inhaled wisdom.
He revealed to us that Socrates, Jesus, Ghandi and Martin Luther King were the greatest thinkers ever.
I asked him if we could add Kurt Cobain to the list; He loved that.
Afterwards, I wasn't listening. My mind was between the legs of beautiful Fawn, who was bucking and moaning.
My mind was in my finger the night before, penetrating her ass-hole and coming out with the delicious smell of shit.
After the lecture, I was on the street, singing love songs loudly, not caring who was walking by.
And a bicyclist drove toward me quickly, rudely, coming dangerously close to me.
As he rode past, I bumped him gently, sending him directly into the way of a passing semi-truck. He was dead.
I explained what had happened to the police captain.
"It was completely his fault. You're free to go," he told me.
I walked out of the police station laughing madly: Our first sacrifice.
